Hermitage
by Fabula Rasa
Summary: At Dumbledore's behest, Snape goes to Azkaban. When he emerges, who can put him back together?
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Note:** The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

"Right this way, Professor. This is where we keep him." 

The Auror, puffing from the exertion of the eight flights of stairs, turned the key in the rusted lock. The iron door swung inwards with a screech to a dank, poorly lit cell. The odour of unwashed human assaulted the nostrils, and Sirius Black recoiled involuntarily. The flagstones were shiny with moisture.

"Lumos. On your feet, you wretch. You're being sent for."

From the darkness, a scraping sound, as of chains slowly unfolding. A bearded shadow of a man stepped into the weak light that spilled from the Auror's upraised wand.

"Move along, there. Don't keep Professor Black waiting."

The shadow shuffled obediently to the center of the cell, and stood while his wrists and ankles were unshackled. A matted curtain of dark hair hid his face, but when he shifted, two glowing embers from his eye sockets caught the light. The Auror kept his wand pointed firmly at him.

"Have a care with this one, Professor. He's not an agreeable sort. Are you sure you'll be all right to manage him?"

"Yes, yes. Hurry up there. The headmaster is waiting."

The Auror shook his head. "I hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

"Is he ready?"

"Just about. Now, I'm going to leave this neck chain on, in case he should give you any trouble. And you keep your wand on him the whole time, or you'll regret it. He's a nasty one and no mistake."

"I assure you, that won't be necessary. You can take that thing off him."

"Well, due respect to a Hogwarts professor and all, sir, but the truth is I can't. It's regulations. We're bound to keep the subjects under physical restraint at all times on the island. Especially since our problems, as I'm sure you know about, with the Dementors. We can't be too careful these days."

"Fine, fine. Let's get going then."

"Right behind you, Professor Black. You'll just need to step into the office on your way out and complete the paperwork, and then we'll have you all set."

"Paperwork? I was given to understand everything had been arranged with the Minister beforehand."

"Well, sir, there's the Minister's end of things, and how he does business is his affair, and then there's things on our end. And on our end, we've got to fill out the forms if we're to run a tight ship here. Now I'm not saying anything against the way the Minister manages things- far be that from me, I'm just about the lowest rung on the ladder you'll find, and of course I would be, stuck here on this godforsaken island with the dregs of wizardkind trying to claw my throat out night and day, it's not a pleasant job, no it isn't sir- anyway, as I was saying, I've nothing against the Minister, but from time to time he forgets how daily business gets carried out, thinks he can manage things with a little snap of his fingers like he was waving his wand. I'll tell you one thing, paperwork is no joke, and it's no magic either, more's the pity. Many's the time I've wished I could magic myself out of that cubicle at one in the A.M. and down to the pub for a pint and to set my feet on the fender, but when there's work to be done it's got to be done, and us out here, we're the ones who've got to do it."

The Auror's speech had carried them to the little office, where he ushered them in and pulled out a chair for Black. The prisoner stood docilely in the corner of the room and did not lift his head. 

"Is that everything? May we go now?"

"Yes, I do believe that's got it, sir. Everything looks to be in order."

"Good. We'll just be going then." Black glanced at the sun setting over the surrounding sea in a riot of gold, its gorgeousness a mock to the bleak, rocky fastness of the island. 

"In such a haste to be off, are you? Well, can't say I blame you there. Most of us wouldn't be here if we didn't have to, and that's a fact. Still, I thought you might like to have a bit of a look round the old place."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, you know, for old times' sake and all that. There's some of my colleagues who remember you, so they do, sir, and would love for you to call on 'em."

Black's mouth narrowed. "Good day. Thank you for your assistance."

"Oh, think nothing of it. It's a pleasure to see you, sir, and anyone from Hogwarts. How we miss the old place once we've left it, don't we? Give my regards to-"

Black's cloak swirled over himself and his companion once, and they were gone. The Auror sighed and shook his head. Back in his cramped office under the stairs, he put his feet on a chair and closed his pudgy eyes. The unearthly wails that floated down from above disturbed his dozing no more than the distant clang of hot water pipes, and gave him the same oddly comforted feeling.

***********************

"Here. Let me get this thing off you."

With a tap of the wand, the heavy neck chain clattered to the prisoner's feet. He did not move.

"Is that better?"

It seemed to take the prisoner several seconds to realise a response was required. Slowly, he nodded his head, once, twice, as though it were rusty.

"I expect the first thing you'll want is a bath. There's a bathroom down the hall, and clean towels laid. And a razor, as well. Though you might want to start with some scissors. They're in the medicine chest behind the mirror. There's a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, and the second bedroom on your right has some clothes in it that ought to fit you. If you need anything else, just let me know."

Black moved off to the kitchen of the small flat, where he began rummaging through cabinets to make tea. The man did not move, but remained staring down at the neck shackle on the floor. After a few minutes Black returned, carrying a tray. He set it down on a low hassock and considered.

"Do you need some help?"

The man raised his head and squinted at Black, as though trying to make out his features.

"Your eyes are probably affected from such a long time in the dark. Your proper sight ought to return in a few days." He stepped closer so the man could see him.

"You need to try to use your voice, even though it's hard. I expect that will be painful at first as well, after a year in solitary. Concentrate on one word, and work on that one. Can you say my name?"

The man blinked. He dropped his head to stare at the chain again.

"Do you know my name?"

Slowly, the man shook his head. His shoulders slumped.

"Do you know your name?"

He raised his head and the ghost of something settled on him. His lips worked for a moment, and he swallowed repeatedly. At last a hoarse croak came out of him, but the words, carefully enunciated, were distinguishable.

"Severus Snape."

"My name is Sirius Black." He paused for half a beat to gauge reaction, but there was none. "Are you hungry?"

Snape nodded, more quickly this time.

"I've got tea and some toast with jam on this tray. Would you like to eat first, or bathe first?"

He watched Snape absorb this, his first decision in three years. He waited as Snape cast his eyes about, blinking rapidly. His hands clenched with the effort of it.

"Food," he croaked at last.

"Right then. Sit here and I'll pour you some tea. How do you take it?"

This appeared to give him more difficulty than the previous decision, as he reached for some memory that evidently slipped away. He shook his head.

"I'll just take a guess on that one, shall I? You don't look like a milk and sugar man. If you don't like it, I'll add some. Easier to put it in than take it out. The toast is to your left."

Snape lifted the food to his mouth with shaking, eager hands. He set the toast aside before he was finished with the first piece, however, and clutched at his stomach.

"You'll need to go slowly at first. Your body's not used to it. It will come, like the rest of it. Shall we have that bath now?"

Snape nodded, and he led him down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. He flicked off the overhead so as not to blind Snape further, and began running the water in the old claw foot tub. When he turned around Snape had not moved.

"Can you take your clothes off?"

He fumbled at his tattered clothing. When he was done he carefully folded the lice infested rags and laid them beside the sink. Black kept his face emotionless at the sight of the painfully emaciated body before him. His pelvic bones were as prominent as his ribs. Grainy black and white footage of men with shaved heads huddled at a barbed wire fence flashed in his mind. 

"I think the water's about right. I would have made it hotter, but you've got one or two sores there I don't want to aggravate. Give it a try and see. Here, let me help you in."

He eased Snape into the tub and watched him sit there. Clearly he was at a loss. Black lathered a flannel and started in on his back. Snape was unresisting, lifting his arms and shifting when required.

"Now let's get started on that hair, shall we? Use this on it first and let it sit for a while- that ought to take care of any creatures in residence. Beard too. We'll shave that off, but we might as well get it clean first. That's it. Shall I bring you your tea in the tub?" He stood up and made for the door. The panic in Snape's rasp stopped him.

"No. Don't- go."

"All right, I'll stay. Are you ready to rinse? There we go. Now the shampoo. You wouldn't be likely to recognise that, would you? Get a good lather going, that's it. Here, like this." He worked the shampoo in with vigorous fingers. Snape leaned in to the hands massaging his scalp. "Tilt your head back. There. Feel good, does it? I'll wager it does. Right, I think you're done. You don't want to soak in that water. Let's see about getting you out. Grab on to me while I pull."

It took surprisingly little effort to get Snape out of the tub. He tried not to calculate how little he must weigh. Quickly he toweled him off and draped a bathrobe around his shoulders. Snape reached for his clothes.

"No, no, we're going to get rid of those. You'll need new things. Don't touch them, they're crawling with vermin. Do you want to try to eat anything else? No? Very well. Sit on this bench here and let me get started on your hair."

With a few deft whacks, Black had Snape's hair at the length he had been accustomed to wear it. Long enough to be imposing, short enough to keep it out of cauldrons. Parted severely down the middle. He evened it up and regarded his handiwork.

"Not bad if I do say so myself. All right, hold still and let's get this beard off you."

When he was done he held up a mirror for Snape, who squinted at it and frowned. He touched the mirror's surface with his fingers, then his face.

"I think you ought to try to get some rest now. Come this way." He led him across the hall to the small spare bedroom and turned down the bed. "There are some clothes in the top drawer of that dresser, if you want them. Pyjamas are here."

Snape pulled on the pyjamas with little difficulty. They were much like what he had been wearing. The buttons gave him a little trouble, and the drawstring was beyond him. Black finished him up and helped him under the covers. 

"I want you to drink this potion before you go to sleep. It will help you rest." He uncorked the vial and held it out. Snape took it hesitantly and sniffed it. "It's Dreamless Sleep. It's quite safe- it's from the Hogwarts store." He paused. "You made it."

Snape gave no sign at this, but he drank it down. Sirius left the candle at the side of the bed burning and cracked the door. "If you need anything, you've only to call." Snape's eyes seemed enormous in the hollow face. His hand twitched convulsively on the coverlid. "Do you want me to stay for a while?" he asked gently.

Snape nodded, eyes down. Black lay down gingerly beside him, leaning against the headboard. He watched Snape's rigid form slowly relax under the potion's influence. When he was sure he was asleep, he leaned over and blew out the candle. The cracked wreck of Snape's voice startled him, coming out of the darkness.

"Thank you."

**********************

"Albus, I'm not sure I'm the right person for this job."

"You are the only person for this job, Sirius."

"I disagree. I'm the last person on this earth Snape is going to want to see. It's my fault we weren't able to get him out sooner, for one thing."

"Severus is unaware of that. He's going to need help, Sirius, and only someone who has been through such an experience is going to be able to help him."

"You and I both know Snape isn't going to want my help. Bring him back here and let him lurk around in his dungeon for a few weeks, and he'll be fine. You're the only one that has ever been able to get through to him, anyway. If you send me, Snape will end up back in Azkaban for a murder he really did commit, this time. Or I will."

"I have faith in you, my boy."

"That phrase is the habitual prelude to disaster in my life."

Dumbledore smiled. "A remark worthy of Severus. Your pessimism is a breath of fresh air. Besides, Sirius. You have a debt to pay."

"Oh, for the love of God. I should have seen that one coming."

"Of course you should have. Now get on with you. Everything has been readied at your flat. Contact me as soon as you can to let me know how he is."

"Pretty sure I would say yes, weren't you, Albus?"

The old wizard's smile deepened. "Fairly sure."

********************

Sirius awoke to an empty bed with a start. He leaped up with a glance at the clock. Seven in the morning. Where the hell was Snape? He had a fleeting vision of Snape wandering the streets of East London in his pyjamas, mumbling to himself. Why hadn't he thought to place wards on the door last might? Voldemort's final defeat had made everyone too careless of such things.

He padded out to the living room. Snape was at the bookcase, peering at the spines while munching last night's dry toast. He was wearing clothes he had found in the dresser- blue jeans that hung on him and a white T-shirt. No shoes. He turned when he heard Sirius.

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Are your eyes better?"

"Yes, much. Still sensitive." He turned back to his examination of the books. "He called you professor. What do you teach?"

Sirius hesitated. "Potions."

Snape nodded. Sirius watched him for a minute, then shuffled off to the kitchen to make breakfast. He stuck his head out the kitchen door every now and again to watch Snape as he moved around the room, exploring, touching. His improvement from last night was remarkable. It was almost possible to pretend it was the old Snape, until you met the absent eyes.

"So. We probably ought to talk." He set breakfast down and gestured for Snape to sit. "I made some more tea."

"Thank you."

He sighed. There was no easy way to begin this. "What do you remember?"

Snape took a sip of the tea. "Enough to know how much I am missing."

"Do you remember Hogwarts?"

Snape frowned. "The place where you teach?"

"Yes. You used to teach there, too."

"I see."

"Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He watched Snape struggle to come up with something. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did I teach there?"

"Sixteen years."

"I see."

"Do you remember going to Azkaban?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. That is all very clear."

"Then you remember Albus."

"Is he the man I killed?"

"You-" Sirius stopped. "You didn't kill anyone."

"But I remember it very clearly."

"Yes. I'm sure you do." Sirius got up and pulled something long and slender out of the sideboard drawer, laying it on the table in front of Snape. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a wand."

"It's your wand. Do you know what it's for?"

"Magic."

"Yes, indeed. You are a very powerful wizard-" He started to call him Snape, then thought that might remind him of Azkaban. "Severus" seemed startlingly inappropriate. He went ahead. "You are a very powerful wizard. This was your wand. A spell was placed on you by another very powerful wizard named Albus Dumbledore. Does his name mean anything to you?"  
  


Snape shook his head. "Not names. Faces. Your face looks familiar. Have we known each other long? Did we teach together?"

"We've known each other since we were eleven. No, we never taught together. I came to Hogwarts after you left."

Snape looked at him sharply. "I used to teach Potions, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. He asked you to do something for him, and you did it. Can you remember what it was?"

Snape furrowed his brow. 

"He needed you to go to Azkaban for him. There was a war going on. You helped us in the war. You did some very brave things. The bravest of all was agreeing to go to Azkaban as a prisoner." He paused to make sure his words were sinking in. "You did not commit a crime. The memories you have were given to you by Dumbledore, so that you would believe you were guilty and would confess under high doses of Veritaserum. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes."

"You did nothing wrong. The memories are not yours. They belong to another man."

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Is he dead?"

"He is now."

"Did he have my memories?"

"No. Your memories survive, but they are buried."

"I see." Snape looked at his hands. He made no effort to touch the wand. "I think I would like to go back to bed now."

"Oh- all right. Of course. Would you like some more Dreamless Sleep?"

"Yes, please."

Snape slept for the rest of the day. Sirius poked his head in periodically. He had a dreadful moment about two in the afternoon when he did not see Snape. It took him a moment to realise Snape had pulled the covers off the bed and curled up on the floor in the corner.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:** The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

On the evening of the third day after Snape's release, Sirius laid the wide shallow silver bowl on the table. He set it next to the thin soup that was all Snape had proven able to tolerate; that and toast was all he had kept down in three days. Tea would do, as long as it was cold. He had managed to stay awake for a only a few hours; the rest of the time he had spent sleeping, and most of that he had spent curled in the corner. Once, when he could tell Snape was deep enough under he wouldn't wake him, he had picked him up and moved him back to the bed. Half an hour later, he had found him back in the corner. After that he had given up.

Snape had shown some initiative in bathing himself and putting on clean clothes, but other than that he moved in a relative stupor. He spoke if spoken to. He was unfailingly polite, but uninterested in anything Sirius had to say, especially if it concerned him and his former life. Dumbledore had hoped the memories would begin to surface, but they were beginning to acknowledge that might not happen of its own accord. So he had asked Sirius to try the more direct approach that they had hoped to avoid.

"How is the soup?"

"Very good. Thank you."

"There's more tea if you want."

"All right."

He watched him eat in silence for a few minutes, wondering if he saw the bowl and was determined not to ask.

"Do you know what that is?"

"What?"

"The bowl to your left."

"Yes, I do in fact."

"When you're done eating, I think we ought to give it a try."

Snape set his spoon down and carefully wiped his mouth. "I am assuming it contains my memories."

"It does. Before placing the spell, Dumbledore made sure your memories were preserved in a Pensieve, in case you had difficulty in recovering them afterward."

"Am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Having difficulties?"

"Well. . .are you remembering things?"

"No."

"Wouldn't you like to?"

"No."

He had seen that one coming, even though he had not voiced it to Dumbledore. "If you can remember things before Azkaban, those memories might become less vivid. I would think you would want that."

"Not particularly."

He knew the truth was that Snape did not particularly want anything. In the first weeks after his own escape, he had cared for nothing and no one but wreaking his vengeance on Pettigrew. Without the anchor of that purpose, he knew he would have drifted on a sea of apathy, the same that threatened to engulf Snape.

"I understand that. But I need you to try."

"If you insist."

"I do. Do you want to prepare it yourself?"

"No. You may."

With a swirl of his wand over the bowl, Sirius set in it front of Snape, who regarded it like a bowl of fermented broccoli stew. "Whenever you're ready."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you think that looking at my memories will make me remember them?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

Snape reached to pull the bowl closer, and stopped, his hand on the rim. "I am assuming much of what I am about to see will be no more pleasant than what I already remember."

Sirius shifted. "I couldn't say. Some of it, undoubtedly. But at least- at least the pain will be yours, and not someone else's."

"Does that make a difference?"

He sighed. "Maybe. Just please, give it a try."

"If you wish it so much."

He leaned his head over the bowl and Sirius watched the bowl swirl up to meet him. When he was sure Snape was pulled all the way under, he rose, turned off the lights and went to lie down. If successful, this could take hours. If not. . .well, if not, they could think of something else in the morning.

*************************

He knew nothing until daylight the next morning. The silence in the flat unnerved him more than anything; he had half expected to be awakened by a screaming, ranting Snape, hurling dishware against the wall. He stuck his head in Snape's room on his way down the hall, but there was no sign anybody had slept there. He found Snape in the living room, standing at the window much as he had every morning, watching the sun rise over the buildings. The Pensieve was back on the sideboard.

"I made some tea. You looked like you needed your rest." Snape didn't turn around.

"All right. Thanks." He waited, but Snape volunteered nothing else. "How did it go last night?"

"You mean, do I remember anything?"

"Yes, that's what I mean. Do you remember anything?"

"Of course." 

"What do you remember?"

"Everything." Snape twitched the curtain aside to get a better view of something on the street. "Tell me, Black, why do you keep a flat here instead of Diagon Alley?"

"Well, my mother was Muggle-born, and I am just as comfortable in both worlds. Also, the wizarding world can be a bit. . .claustrophobic. It's nice to be able to retreat from it occasionally."

"And since you left Azkaban, they still look at you askance, even though your name was cleared."

"And that as well." 

Snape went back to his examination of the street below. There was something terribly unsettling about his calm. 

"Don't you want to ask me anything, Snape?"

"Yes, in fact. How do you operate that contraption over there?"

"Oh. That's a CD player. It plays music. Let me show you." He demonstrated the system's function to him with a Brahms concerto. Snape pushed the eject button several times, fascinated, trailing his finger over the blinking readout. "You're welcome to use it whenever you like."

"Thank you."

"I need to go to the store in a bit. It's just around the corner. Would you like to go out?"

"No, thank you."

"All right then. I'll be back as soon as I can. Is there anything you want?"

"Not particularly."

Sirius gathered up his jacket and paused at the door. Snape was back at the CD player, picking through CDs. "Snape."

"Yes."

"I- nothing. Never mind. I'll be back in a minute."

He was gone almost an hour, as it turned out. The store around the corner was out of the kind of tea he was accustomed to, and he had to go on another five blocks to find a store that had Lapsang Souchong. He took his time on the walk back, relishing the movement and noise of the city after the suffocating quiet of the flat. It wasn't true that he cut himself off from the wizarding world when he was here. Three blocks west of his flat was a small pub, one quarter the size of the Leaky Cauldron and equally hidden from the casual gaze. Here he was wont to stop in occasionally, though it was not a friendly place, and he was never greeted by name. One of its many advantages, from Sirius's point of view.

He took a small room in back and threw a handful of powder in the dingy fireplace, muttering a spell. Within seconds, Albus Dumbledore's face appeared in the flames.

"Well? How did it go last night?"

"All right, I suppose. I left him with the Pensieve and went to bed. When I woke up this morning he claimed to remember everything."

"Do you think he is not telling you the truth?"

"I- no, that's not it. That wouldn't worry me so much. What worries me is that he is telling the truth."

"Ah. You expected him to be himself again, once his memories returned."

"Not exactly. But I did expect something- some emotion. Anger, especially." He sighed. "Albus, I think it would be best if I brought him back to Hogwarts now. If he's in his own environment, he stands a better chance of recovering."

"I disagree," said Dumbledore gravely. "I know this task is not to your taste, Sirius. But I need you to do this."

Sirius thought a moment. "You don't expect him to recover, do you?"

Dumbledore's disembodied head examined him for a moment before answering. "I don't know, really. I think in large measure that will be up to Severus."

He leaned his hands on the mantel. "I need some of his things. His books, maybe, and whatever you think he would want. Can you do that?"

"Of course, my boy. I will send them on at once. I know just the thing."

"I'll owl you later, then. Send me a Hogwarts owl- I haven't one here."

"Keep me posted. And Sirius-"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He doused the flames with the pewter beaker on the mantel and watched the acrid smoke curl up the chimney. He fought down the suspicion that Albus was keeping Snape here because he didn't want to see him.

He heard the music before he unlocked the door- heard it on the stairs two floors below, in fact. When he opened the door he saw Snape sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa, barefoot, as before, head tilted back, eyes closed, a cigarette nestled on the ashtray beside him. The music was deafening.

"And they were singin'

Bye bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee 

But the levee was dry.

And the good old boys drinkin' whisky and rye,

Singin' this'll be the day that I die,

This'll be the day that I die."

Snape fingered the remote control and turned the music down slightly. "Need help?"

"No, thanks, I've got it. Turn that thing down. Mrs. Gromet's likely to call the police."

He obeyed, taking a deep drag off his cigarette.

"I see you've found my stash. I don't think I've ever seen you smoke before, Snape. Then again, the sight of you in jeans and T shirt is shocking enough."

Snape stubbed out the cigarette and followed him into the kitchen, watching him put away the groceries. "What did Albus say?"

"When?"

"Honestly, Black, I've suffered trauma, not brain damage. What did Albus say when you contacted him?"

Sirius hid a smile as he bent to put away the crackers. That was sounding a bit more like Snape. "He asked if you remembered things yet, and I told him the Pensive was a success. He was pleased, but wants you to stay here a bit more."

"I see."

"You must be eager to get back home."

Snape gave him an odd look. "I suppose."

"I picked up some cold duck for luncheon today- the market was having a special on. Don't think I want to speculate why. Sound all right?"

"Yes, that's fine. I think I'll lie down for a bit first, if you don't mind." He shuffled off down the hallway and closed his bedroom door. Sirius swore and tossed the duck back in the refrigerator.

******************

The arrival of Dumbledore's package two days later exceeded all expectations. He had expected an owl- or several owls- to arrive laden with brown paper packages. He had even left the windows open all afternoon; Hogwarts owls were often unaccustomed to Muggle dwellings and had a tendency to crash into plate glass windows and slither to the ground stunned or worse. So he was startled when the knock on the door came, and positively dumbfounded when he opened it to see Harry standing grinning under a mountain of packages.

"Hullo, Sirius! Dumbledore said you needed some stuff, and I've been dying to see you, so here I am- er, we are." He stood aside to reveal Hermione buried under a particularly cumbersome parcel. "Can we come in?"

"Oh, good God. Yes, I suppose you'd better. Here, let me take that. Sorry, I don't mean to appear ungracious, it's just I'm not sure this was the best idea. Did he tell you anything about-"

"Good day, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger." Snape padded in to the living room and dropped to his customary place in front of the sofa. He flicked on the system's remote control and settled in, lighting a cigarette. Harry and Hermione stood as though struck by lightning.

"Um. Good day, sir," Harry managed.

"Hello, Professor. How are you feeling?" Hermione chimed in with a bright chipperness.

"Officious as ever, I see. I am as you find me. I'm sure you can find something to do that doesn't include bothering me."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yes, the personality recovery program proceeds apace. We're up to three insults a day now. It'll be nice to have you here to share the wealth." He led them into the kitchen and poured some tea. The kitchen was crowded, but it was free of the brooding, uncomfortable presence of Snape.

"Has he been like this since you got him out of Azkaban?" Harry asked in an undertone.

"Oh, he's much better now. The first few days- well, you wouldn't have wanted to be here. He seems almost normal now, in comparison."

"But," Hermione worried her bottom lip. "He's wearing blue jeans."

Sirius laughed. "He doesn't have much of a choice. That's really all I keep here."

She smiled. "He ought to be thrilled with some of what we brought, then. The headmaster sent his robes and his own clothes, and books and cauldrons and potions ingredients- he's asked Professor Snape to get started replenishing some of the Hogwarts stores. He should have plenty to keep him busy."

Sirius frowned slightly. "Well, I'm sure Albus knows what he's doing. What about the three of us going out tonight?"

Harry looked at Hermione. "Won't Professor Snape find it a bit odd if we just leave him here?"

"Trust me, no. He'd much rather stay. Even under the best of circumstances I wouldn't inflict him on unsuspecting Muggles. I know a great little Indian place a few blocks from here I've been wanting to try. In the mood for curry? My treat."

Hermione grinned and nudged Harry. "I told you this was a good idea."

************************

Having Harry and Hermione around turned out to be a good thing for everyone. Snape was at least forced to exchange the occasional remark, however chilly, and Sirius had the rare pleasure of his godson's company away from Hogwarts. He enjoyed showing Harry and Hermione around his little corner of London, and they were appreciative of his cooking, something he liked to think he was rather good at. Heating up Snape's gruel had not proved to be much of a challenge.

Snape had shown no interest whatsoever in the packages from Hogwarts. They sat in the corner of his bedroom where they had been deposited three days before. He continued to spend his days on the floor of the living room listening, apparently with no preference, to classical music, jazz, or Muggle rock at obnoxiously high volume. Occasionally he stretched out in the chair by the window and watched the street below, his long legs propped on the windowsill, his absent gaze fixed on some point in space, chain-smoking endlessly.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Hermione reached a decision. She emerged from Snape's bedroom with the cauldron and an armful of bottles, and began setting up on the kitchen counter. Snape paid her no attention, but Sirius eyed her over his newspaper with something like alarm.

"Hermione. What are you doing?"

"I thought I might see if Professor Snape would like to get started on those potions. I figured, as long as he's got someone here to help. . ." she shrugged and glanced at the figure draped on the floor.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Snape glowered at her. "As though Albus couldn't get one of about a dozen other people to make those potions for him. It is nothing but a pathetically transparent attempt to give me a Purpose In Life. What is it he wants me to brew? Foot fungus powder?"

"Well, I thought we might start with something simple like Skele-Gro," she chirped.

"Miss Granger, it is true I have not been your teacher for three years, but I doubt even Black's incompetence can have rendered you incapable of brewing such a simple potion on your own."

"Why, thank you, Snape. Three years had almost made me forget what a joy you are to have around."

"Please, Professor?" Hermione gave him her best and most docile look. "I know I could do it myself, but I would need the book, and we don't have it here. Would you do me the honour?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," He sneered, but unstretched his legs and stalked to the counter, where he regarded her carefully laid provisions with distaste. "I see you've become no more methodical about your preparations. I ought to deduct points for that clumsily shredded monkshood."

"I did that monkshood, Snape."

"Why am I not surprised. Hand me that wand." With a few flicks, he had the fire going and a gill of liquid bubbling in the bottom of the cauldron. He fell with ease into his customary concentration in front of a cauldron, his quick graceful hands chopping and stirring and sifting like he had stepped away from the table only yesterday. Hermione handed him the ingredients like a well-trained surgical nurse, watching him in silence, masking her small pleased smile. 

"Lemongrass." He stretched out his hand.

"Griffin claw." She placed it in his hand, perfectly ground.

He paused, his wand uplifted to stir. He set the wand down, a furrow creasing his brow. "Hand me that- no." He stared into the cauldron's reeking depths. "The…" His frown deepened. He clutched the countertop as though suddenly dizzy.

"I can't remember," he whispered.

"The spider silk," she supplied softly.

"Yes, of course. Spider silk. The necessary component for the. . . to supply the. . ." He stared into space.

"To bind the molecules of the growing bone." 

With a sweep of his arm he flung the bubbling cauldron and its contents off the counter. It crashed against the wall, spattering boiling liquid six feet. Hermione shrieked and covered her face. Harry and Sirius leaped to their feet at the same time.

"Goddamn it!" He grabbed up the monkshood and hurled it after the cauldron. "Fucking hell!" He picked up the bottle of strained salamanders and smashed it against the wall. Purple fluid streaked the wall and dripped onto the floor. "Bloody fucking hell! Why can't I- fucking- remember!"

Sirius approached him slowly, hands upraised in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "Snape. Take it easy. It will come."

Snape rounded on him with ferocity. "You," he gritted through clenched teeth, trembling. "You fucking bastard." He pushed him backward hard, and Sirius was reminded Snape had several inches on him and had lost none of his strength despite his malnourishment. The wiry arms pinned him against the wall. "You left me there to rot, you halfblooded cur, you mangy son of a mudblood bitch. Six months, goddamn it! It was supposed to be six months at the outside, not three bloody years. What the hell happened? Did you all just decide it would be easier to forget about the greasy git? Did you?" Snape's voice was a howl, a feral roar, teeth bared in his face. "Did Albus forget? Did he? Tell me the fucking truth!"

"Nobody forgot," he whispered.

"Liar!" Snape was shaking with rage now, and he lifted Sirius by his collar and pounded him against the wall. Harry advanced behind him, but Sirius quickly waved him away. He saw Harry and Hermione edge back into the hallway, out of range.

"You've done nothing but lie to me my whole life, you vicious little shit. You've been trying to kill me since I was fifteen, and probably before. You saw your chance and took it. You poisoned Albus against me- you took him from me too, damn you! And now you have my goddamn job as well, you motherfucking piss-sucking bastard. Everything I ever had in my life you have managed to take from me. Everything! Everything!"

Snape's face was purple, his eyes wild. A remote part of Sirius's brain that wasn't occupied in figuring out how to keep Snape from killing him was impressed at Snape's command of profanity. Who would have thought he had it in him? He grabbed on to Snape's arm.

"Snape. Listen to me. Nobody forgot you. Albus devoted his life to getting you out. Once he realized what a mistake he had made- it wasn't his fault, Snape. It was mine. The hearing that was supposed to free you after you infiltrated the Dementors-I was the one that fucked it up, Snape, I-" 

"Shut up!" He pounded him again. "Shut up shut up shut up! I don't want to hear a word out of your fucking mouth! You don't know- you don't know. . ." Snape's breath came in great shudders, and his arms on Sirius's shoulders shook. "I- I- . . ." He dropped his arms and clutched at his hair. He backed away, fighting for breath.

"They took- everything. I don't- They took everything- oh God, oh God-" With no warning he collapsed to the floor at Sirius's feet, shaking uncontrollably. He lifted his head and gulped air as his first sob wracked him.

"Oh, Severus." Sirius dropped beside him and gathered the rangy man in his arms. "Oh, Severus."

Snape's sobs tore his throat, and he clawed into Sirius's body as though he were drowning. "Sirius. Help me. Help me."

"I am. Oh God, I am. I don't know what to do. I'm here, Severus. I'm here."

He held him while the sobs ripped through him like convulsions. They went on forever, until he doubted Snape had any more strength in him. He began to stroke the silky head that lay cradled in his lap, willing the breathing to quieten. At last Snape lay limp and unresisting, his fingers still gripping Sirius's shirt. He continued his stroking. The light from the window went from gold to grey, and the room darkened around them. After a while he thought Snape must have fallen asleep. He peered down to see the great dark eyes staring off in the distance.

"I don't know who I am any more, Sirius," he whispered hoarsely.

"I know."

"Everything I was- they erased it all. I can't- I can't seem to find it any more."

"I know." They sat in silence for a while more.

"You know. . ." Snape began softly. "You were in there for twelve years and came out whole. I was there for less than a quarter that time, and it destroyed me. I hate myself for that most of all, I think."

Sirius weighed his reply before he spoke. "When I went to Azkaban," he said slowly, "I knew with everything in me, with every fiber of my being, that I was an innocent man. I had my innocence as an anchor, and my hope of vengeance. You had none of that. You went believing in your guilt. The Dementors ripped you open and fed like sharks in a lagoon. You had no armour against them, nothing to hold on to. You're not weak, Severus. No one else could have done what you did."

"I don't know what to do now."

"I know that too." He shifted. "I think Harry and Hermione have locked themselves in the bathroom. Should we tell them to come out?"

"Perhaps. How long do you think they will stay in there if we don't say anything?"

"Till morning, at least."

"Well, give it a while, then. It's little enough time we have to ourselves with the children in the house."

He laughed, and felt Snape's answering chuckle against his thigh. The laughter eased the tight bands around his chest, so he tried it some more. He closed his eyes and rested his hand on the dark head. His last thought was to be sure not to fall asleep like this.

Harry and Hermione, as it turned out, were more intrepid than either man had given them credit for. After a fretful few hours spent pacing and whispering in the bathroom, ears to the keyhole, they had creeped out, wondering what scene of bloodshed would greet them. They had stared in astonishment at the sight of the two wizards slumped against the wall, twined together. Hermione, with Harry's help, had quietly cleaned the mess on the floor. She had gently draped them with a quilt, while Harry scribbled a note on the kitchen table before they left.

"That was the strangest thing I have ever witnessed," Harry had muttered as they went down the stairs.

"I know. Let's obliviate each other."

"Not to worry. I'm sure Snape will do it for us the minute he's back at school."

"Not fast enough," she said.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

Snape stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his robes. They hung on him. The trousers that had hugged the line of his leg three years ago looked more like pyjamas today. He frowned, plucking at his robe. If he gathered it carefully around him he looked less like a scarecrow. He should have thought of this sooner, instead of delaying the moment of actually trying on the robes as long as possible. It was too late to make a trip to Madam Malkin's now. The arrival feast and the sorting were minutes away.

He glanced at the reflection, then hastily away. The stranger in the mirror made him uncomfortable. He took a final sip of his tea and squared his shoulders. The knock on the door came as his hand reached the knob. 

"Thought I would see if you wanted some company."

"I was just heading up to the hall."

"I'll walk with you then."

"Black, I am not an invalid. I am perfectly capable of making it upstairs by myself," he scowled.

"Shall I keep three feet behind you then?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Let's go." He swept off at a great pace, robes flapping. He was silent all the way to the entrance of the hall, and mercifully Black did not try to chat. He did not allow himself to pause at the entrance to the high table, but passed quickly through the side door as though he had last been through it at lunch.

He ignored the hush that fell on the hall as he entered, and hurriedly found his place and sat. He had a moment of panic when he realised it might not be his place anymore. With the shuffling of faculty there was no telling where anybody sat now. He glanced at the center chairs and fought down the stab of pain at Minerva's absence. It was impossible to believe in the reality of her death; he had spent the last few days at Hogwarts expecting to bump into her in the corridors. Now, seeing the empty chair at Albus's right hand made her seem truly gone. With a start he realised that Albus was still standing, and was peering at him over his glasses.

"Severus. That is Professor Black's place now."

Shame scalded his insides, but he rose with stiff dignity. "Of course. How foolish of me."

"This place is for you." Dumbledore gestured at the empty chair on his right with a small smile. Snape froze. "Will you do me the honour, Severus?"

Through the absolute silence in the hall, Snape ascended the small step onto the central platform and sat himself in the Deputy Headmistress's chair. For a horrified moment he saw that no one else had been seated. What were they waiting for? What gaffe had he committed? 

From somewhere to his left the clapping began. It swept the Great Hall in a deafening wave. The older students were heaving their caps in the air and cheering wildly, and the younger students, though clueless as to its cause, were merrily joining in the celebration. From the Gryffindor table a great shout went up. Dumbledore tapped on his glass for silence. He uplifted his goblet.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I give you- Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape!" Three hundred glasses rose in the air, three hundred voices took up the shout. Every eye in the hall was fixed on him. Slowly he rose and looked about him. Hooch, Vector, and Trelawney were all grinning like maniacs. Sprout and Flitwick were beaming obnoxiously; even Lupin and Black were smiling at him expectantly. He felt Dumbledore's presence behind him like a solid wall.

"Thank you." He paused. They all seemed to be waiting for something more. "It is with. . . great pleasure that I join you here this evening." His voice came haltingly, but it had lost none of its hypnotic power. The eyes of the first years widened. "You do me honour- honour, I fear, I do not deserve." He stopped and surveyed the sea of faces. Too many gaps, especially among the older ones. The Slytherin table was only half-populated. He met the sad grey eyes of Draco Malfoy at its head. Where was Zabini? And the others? Finch-Fletchley, the irritating Creevey boy, plump, earnest Hannah Abbot? His throat clenched. "In honouring me, you honour yourselves, and the victory you have all worked so hard to achieve, at incalculable personal cost." His eyes flicked again to young Malfoy. "Gratifying as your adulation is, I find it impossible, as I stand here before you, to ignore the absences I see. Tonight. . .tonight I wish to honour those who are not here with us, and one in particular-" his hand gripped the carved post of his chair- "whose loss I shall ever feel." He raised his glass and fixed his gaze on the enchanted sky above their heads. "To Minerva McGonagall."

"Minerva McGonagall," came the answer from every throat. From the corner of his eye he saw Sinistra Vector clutch Rolanda Hooch's hand. The heads at the Gryffindor table bowed. In the silence that followed, he sat, and the hall followed suit. Albus stepped forward.

"And now, let the feast-" he clapped his hands together once, "begin!"

***************************

"If you don't want the position, Severus, you have only to say so."

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, smiling at him over a cup of lemon tea. Snape was scowling at the headmaster, arms crossed. Black was pouring himself some more tea, and Lupin was draped in the comfortable chair by the window. 

"I never said I didn't want it. I simply wish-" he rose and began to pace. "I wish to be assured this is not a payment for services rendered, or some such thing."

Dumbledore's twinkle died. "I know well there is no payment possible, Severus. This is not an attempt to make up for anything. I make the offer because you are quite frankly the best person for the job. And I was under the impression that the post of Defence Master was one that had interested you for some time." 

"Of course it has," he answered crossly.

"However, I understand if you are reluctant to leave Potions. I do not think I offend Sirius when I say few wizards have your natural gift with potions. I would not be surprised if, after all these years, the subject had become dear to you."

Snape's scowl deepened. 

"Allow me to suggest this. If you take up the post, you need not make a permanent commitment. Try it for the year, and if at the end of term, you wish to return to Potions, I'm sure Sirius would be happy to accommodate you. Though I think I am not wrong when I say he has developed quite an affection for the subject."

"And Lupin?" He glanced at the werewolf, who returned his gaze with equanimity.

"You need have no fear on his account, my boy. Remus has expressed an interest in taking over Minerva's position as Transfigurations Master, one I think he is eminently well-suited for."

Snape shifted. "Where would I- what about rooms?"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Have you not been to your rooms yet?"

"I have been in guest accommodations in Ravenclaw Wing, as you well know. No one has said anything to me about where my permanent rooms are."

"Why, where they have always been, of course. Did you think we had packed your trunks and moved you out? Your rooms are as you left them in the dungeons. If you would prefer accommodations closer to your new classroom, of course I shall be happy to arrange that. But I assumed you would prefer to return to your old home."

Snape sat down heavily. He contemplated his hands for a moment. "Very well then. I accept the position."

"Excellent! This is a most happy solution. Now, there is only one other thing we need to discuss. Naturally, Severus, I wish you to reassume your duties as Head of Slytherin House."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Not much to look after these days."

Dumbledore sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. Almost all the parents of our Slytherin students sided with Voldemort in the war, of course, and pulled their children out of Hogwarts. Most of them are now orphaned, and have gone to live with relatives on the Continent or elsewhere. Many have enrolled at Durmstrang. More tea?"

"No, thank you."

"As I was saying. Many of our oldest families claim there is an atmosphere of bias against purebloods at Hogwarts now. Others fear the reputation of 'radicalism'-" he said with a smile- "that Hogwarts has acquired. A hot bed of the loyal opposition, as it were. Not Ministry-friendly. Enrollment is down."

"I see."

"I need you to help rebuild Slytherin House. In fact, the position of head of each of the houses will be more important than ever. Which is why I want to ask you, Sirius, to head Gryffindor."

Sirius gave a start. "But Albus, don't you think- I mean, Remus is my senior in position and experience-"

"And he has already turned me down flat. I don't take rejection well, so don't inflict it on me twice in two days."

"May I ask why you said no, Remus?"

Lupin shrugged. "Moving into Transfigurations will be enough of a challenge. I've a lot of catching up to do if I'm going to be up to Minerva's standard. Also," he said with a wry smile, "I think Gryffindor needs someone a bit more- reliable. On all days of the month."

"Remus, that's utter-"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "He has made his decision, Sirius. Now it is time for you to make yours. Will you accept?"

"Of course I will, Albus. I am honoured. Even if I am second choice."

The headmaster rolled his eyes. "Academics. Now. The final matter is even more important than the others. In this time of rebuilding, I will need a deputy that I can rely on above all others, to be my right hand, to know instinctively what is best for Hogwarts and serve the school, if necessary, with his very life. Severus, I want Minerva's chair to be yours at more than just mealtimes."

Snape looked up and hastily replayed the conversation in his head. He had a tendency now to drift away from conversations in which he was not an active participant. Surely he can't have been paying close enough attention.

"I'm sorry, Albus, did you ask me to-"

"I am asking you to serve the school to which you have dedicated your life as Deputy Headmaster."

He sensed Black and Lupin watching him. "I don't know what to say, Albus. Are you sure that would be wise?"

"I am sure it is the sanest and wisest decision I have reached in many a long year. And now I want your answer."

"I accept," he said slowly. "With reservations."

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed as though he had not heard the last words. "I could not be more pleased. Sirius, Remus, I ask that you accept Severus's decisions in all things as mine. Well. The future looks bright indeed. You three will be the core around which we will rebuild the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world."

"And you think that's a good thing?" Lupin's skepticism was plain.

He had a point, Snape thought as he glanced at the three of them. A werewolf and two convicted murderers, one with Death Eater on his resume. The core of the faculty. God help them all. But Dumbledore was beaming at him as if he were the Regius Professor of Classics, so he made an effort to twitch the corners of his mouth into something resembling a smile.

"Shall we celebrate with some sherry?"

"No, thank you, Albus." Black rose and stretched. "I've got to get the dungeons ready for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw second years at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I'd better go secure all volatile substances."

"Good night then, Sirius. Why don't you take Severus to his rooms, as long as you are headed that way? I want to chat about Transfiguration with Remus for a bit."

He offered no comment to Black on the way to the dungeons, but swept briskly along. He paused at the door to his quarters. Black answered his unspoken question.

"The wards are unchanged. Step right in."

He had accustomed himself to reaching into his mind and discovering a gap where he least expected one, but thank Merlin that did not happen tonight. Homines id quod volunt credunt, he muttered under his breath. The door swung open, and he stood in his office.

My God, he thought. Albus was telling the truth when he said everything had been left exactly as it was. Black must have used a different office. Every last stack of papers, every book was exactly as though its owner had stepped out moments ago. All was carefully dusted. The house elves must have been busy.

He ran his fingers over the books on the shelves. He had an oddly vertiginous sensation. Conscious of Black watching him, he wheeled around.

"Have you nothing else to do but stare at me, Black?"

"Not much." He turned to go, but paused at the door. "We've all got a lot to do to get ready tonight, but Remus and I were planning on going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night. Sort of our own arrival feast tradition. We'd love to have you join us, if you'd like."

"An evening of carousing with you and Lupin. Sounds execrable."

"It was just a thought. Good night, Snape."

"Black. Wait."

"What?"

"I wanted to say- that is. I appreciate the state of my rooms."

He said nothing for a minute. "You're welcome."

"Good night."

"Good night then."

*********************************

"Mr. Potter!" Snape's voice had lost none of its power to terrify, especially when bellowed across a crowded cloister. "Unhand that boy at once!"

He jerked Harry backward by his collar and placed himself between the warring students. Harry's lip was swollen and cut, and the other boy's nose was running blood. They were both panting and glaring at each other. 

"Twenty points will be deducted from each of your houses for this ungentlemanly display. Give me your name at once," he demanded of the unknown boy in his most threatening manner.

"Nigel Milholland. Sir." The sullen boy glared up at Snape.

"Your house and year."

"Ravenclaw. Fourth year."

That explained why the boy looked unfamiliar. He was large for a fourth year, easily a match for the slightly built Potter. 

"Mr. Milholland, you will be serving your detention this evening with your head of house, Professor Vector. Mr. Potter, you will serve yours under Professor Black. If I hear so much as a whisper suggesting that either of you have engaged in inappropriate behaviour until then, I will deduct fifty points and have you both expelled. Mr. Potter, come with me." 

He turned with a swish of ebony silk and strode quickly to his office. Harry had to practically jog to keep up. When Harry was through the door he slammed it with a crash.

"You will explain yourself at once, Mr. Potter."

Harry examined his shoes. "I thought this was a matter for my head of house, sir."

"I see you have lost none of your impertinence, nor your disregard for authority. You will explain to me this instant why you, a prefect of this school, felt it necessary to attack a boy three years your junior."

Harry wiped his lip. "He was being insolent, sir."

"To whom?" Snape barked.

"To a faculty member."

"I see. Harry Potter as the self-appointed chastiser of the insolent. I'm sure you are in no position to appreciate the irony. Which faculty member were you defending with such manly vigour?"

Harry lost himself in his shoes again.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape circled closer and leaned in. "I am giving you a direct order. Let me assure you, the years that have intervened between the last time we stood in this exact position have not deprived me of my ability to _punish_ those who disobey my _orders_." His purr was menacing.

"Now I will ask you one more time, Mr. Potter. To whom was Mr. Milholland being insolent."

Harry swallowed. "To you, sir," he whispered.

"I see." Snape crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Mr. Potter, you will tell me exactly what was said."

Harry stiffened in horror. "Please, sir."

"Silence! On your honour as a student of this school, repeat to me every word that Mr. Milholland said."

Harry took a deep breath and stared at the wall. "He said he would rather eat Flobberworm turds than have to sit in a classroom and be taught by murdering Death Eating scum. Sir."

"And?"

"And-" Harry faltered. "And that his parents didn't die so he would have to go to school to traitorous bastards who got their jobs back by sucking Dumbledore's mildewed cock."

"Mr. Milholland is a very eloquent individual. And what did you do?"

"I demanded he take it back, sir."

"And he refused, I take it. By saying?"

"By saying. . . by saying I was so interested in defending faggots that I must be getting it good from- from the slimy git myself."

"Hm." Snape walked to the window and gazed out meditatively. "One more thing, Mr. Potter. I still hold you on your honour. Is Mr. Milholland the only student you have overheard making such remarks?"

"No, sir." Harry's voice could barely be heard.

"Don't worry, I'm not interested in names. Tell me, Mr. Potter. Is it your intention to thrash them all?"

Harry raised his head. "Yes, sir," he said fiercely.

Snape resisted the fatal urge to laugh. He regarded Harry thoughtfully. When over the last three years had the scrawny big-eyed Triwizard Champion become the muscular, deep-voiced young man before him? The eyes were the same, though.

"Let me ask you a question, Mr. Potter. Mr. Milholland's words may have been a bit crude, but were his sentiments roughly what yours would have been at the beginning of your fourth year?"

Harry flushed. "I-"

"Truthfully, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"And yet you managed to walk the halls of Hogwarts unassaulted. Tell me, have you heard of Rufus McQuarrie?"

"No, sir. Even prefects haven't yet learned everybody's-" 

"Oh, be quiet. Rufus McQuarrie was the professor of Arithmancy in the 70s. I'm surprised you have not heard your godfather speak of him."

Harry shook his head, wary of the conversation's turn.

"No matter. Professor McQuarrie was a mean, petty, sadistic little man who made it the business of his life to persecute and torture me at every available opportunity. He was universally loathed, especially by Slytherins, for whom he had it in. Of course, at the distance of some decades I see he was probably just a barmy old coot, and I was a particularly irritating little know-it-all."

Harry raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. Snape sighed. 

"Have you never heard of an object lesson, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head.

"Plus ca change, I see. The point is, it is not such a bad thing to go through your school days hating one of your professors. It can be a useful diversion of sorts, and better than many I can think of. Dislike of McQuarrie created a kind of bond among students who otherwise might not have had much occasion for fellow feeling. There was once-" He cut himself off with a frown.

"It's not the same, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not the same, the way you felt about McQuarrie, or the way I felt about you in fourth year. Things have changed since the war. What Milholland was saying, it wasn't a schoolboy grudge. It was hatred. I thought- I thought the war would mean an end of hatred, that all that would be over and we could start afresh. And here it's just started all over again."

So. Still a boy after all. Snape sighed. "It was ever thus, Mr. Potter. Wars are not fought to end hatred, or for any other noble abstraction. They are fought to survive. We survived. That's called winning. Mr. Milholland's parents did not. That's called losing, no matter which side they fought for. And he is bound to resent the winners all of his life."

Harry considered. Did a part of him resent Sirius and Remus for surviving when his parents did not? He wanted to shout _no_, but knew it would be a lie. He cast his eyes down.

"Clear out of my office, Mr. Potter. I have work to do. I will inform Professor Black of your detention tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Next time you are tempted to assault a fellow student, consider using your wand. This is a school of witchcraft and wizardry, for heaven's sake."

After he had scurried out, Snape sat lost in thought for a long time, chewing on a quill.

*****************************

"Snape!" Sirius called down the crowded hallway, striding after the new Defence Master with robes billowing. Snape set his mouth in a thin line.

"Professor Black."

"What the hell is going on? Harry says he has detention with me tonight. Since when do you mete out punishment to members of my house?"

"Since I was appointed Deputy Headmaster. Is there a problem, Black?"

"Damn it, Snape. I told you Remus and I were planning on going out tonight. It's the first day of classes. Couldn't you have cut him some slack for the first twenty-four hours?"

"Did he tell you why he was assigned detention?"

"He told me it was for disorderly conduct in the halls. What the hell, Snape? Did he spit? Forget to tie his shoes?"

"I see. He must have taken care to ice that lip, then, before he spoke to you."

Sirius stopped in mid-stride. "He was fighting?"

"Mr. Potter was brawling with another student considerably his junior in the courtyard. I intervened and punished them both."

"Did you even try to find out who started it?"

Snape gestured to his office door. "Perhaps we should continue this in my office."

"With pleasure."

Snape rattled the oaken door on its hinges when he slammed it. He had forgotten how good that felt. Twice today, now. God, but it was good to be back. He made no attempt to conceal his snarl.

"Professor Black," he spat like it was a curse word. "I do not expect that you and I shall find many points of agreement in our tenure as colleagues. Nor do I expect that I will be able to persuade you to my point of view, or vice versa, on many occasions. But I do expect," and here he lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, "that you will never again question my authority in front of students. If you find it necessary to challenge my decisions, you will do it here, behind closed doors. Do I make myself clear?"

Sirius stiffened. "Perfectly."

"And if you do not find yourself able to comply with this," Snape leaned closer, "I will tie your leash to the thickest stake I can find and chain you in the Forbidden Forest on the full moon as werewolf bait."

Sirius lunged, and Snape moved just a fraction too slowly to escape the ex-Beater's right hook. Slytherin came back with a mighty swing, and the battle was joined.

*********************

"Well. This is an edifying sight to be sure." Dumbledore stood, arms folded, surveying the bloodied mess of his Potions Master and Defence Master, who stood heads bowed before their headmaster. He flipped open his pocket watch. "Twenty-one hours and seventeen minutes. That is exactly how long you have lasted as colleagues before attempting to kill each other."

He snapped his watch shut and glowered at the two offenders. "And where have I seen this before, I wonder? Twenty-five years," he thundered. "Twenty-five years have not been enough to give either of you sufficient maturity where the other is concerned."

"He-" "But he-" They began at once.

"Silence!" roared Dumbledore in a voice that would have quelled the Great Hall.

"Now," he resumed in a calmer tone. "I am going to do my best to forget that this entire incident ever happened. And the two of you are going to do your best," he said, fixing them both with his piercing glare, "to make sure that this never happens again. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Headmaster." "Yes, Headmaster." 

"Very good. Now. Get out of my office. One more thing," he called as they hastily departed. "You will both serve detention this evening."

"What?!" They both cried at once.

"You heard me. Do you think we ought to hold our students to a higher standard than we hold ourselves? Yes? Something you wish to say, Severus?"

"No, headmaster," he mumbled.

"Good. I will see you both at seven thirty this evening. You will await me here. Agreed?" He seemed satisfied with whatever noises they made. "And gentlemen? The password is 'arrested adolescence'." He waved the door shut behind them with a flick of his wand.

**Endnote:** Snape's ward is a quotation from Julius Caesar: "Men believe what they wish to."

  



	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note:** The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

"Well. Where is he?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You were here first. What did you do with him?"

"I murdered him, Black, and stuffed his body behind a bookcase. Now no one can stand in the way of my diabolical plan to dominate the universe. And my first act once I have gained world power will be to buy you a muzzle."

"Very funny." Sirius collapsed in a chair and sat in sullen silence. After a while he glanced at the clock on the wall. "This is ridiculous. Does he expect us to sit here all night?"

"My guess would be yes, that is exactly what he expects. I don't think we will be seeing Albus before midnight, at the earliest."

Sirius groaned and leaned his head back in his chair. "Good God. You're right. Remus is going to kill me. He's stuck supervising my detention for me all night now."

"I'm sure you'll find ways to make it up to him."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, never mind." Snape sank further into his chair and tried to glare Fawkes into submission. Sirius drummed his fingers for a minute, then rose and began to pace.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That infernal pacing."

"This is ridiculous. I'm not staying here."

"That's just fine with me, Black. I have no problem being the only one here when Albus opens that door."

"Oh, bloody hell."

"Watch your language."

"You're one to talk."

"What does that mean?"

"Forget it."

They watched Fawkes groom himself and listened to the clock tick. Finally Sirius stirred.

"Well, I might as well begin. For what it's worth, Snape, I apologise."

Snape's eyebrows shot to the ceiling.

"I was wrong to challenge you like that. In the hallway, at least. I admit that at the moment, I forgot you were Deputy Headmaster and thought of you as – well- Snape."

Snape steepled his fingers. "Very well, Black. I accept your apology."

"And?"

"And what?"

"This is the part where you apologise for baiting me."

"I beg your pardon. I did no such thing. I spoke of baiting werewolves, not you."

"Why, you little-"

"And I might point out that you assaulted me like an overgrown Quidditch hooligan, for which you have yet to apologise."

"And you assaulted right back!"

"Merely self-defence."

"Right. I'm done here. No more talking, or I may strangle you. No telling how many detentions Albus would make me serve for that one. But at least I would have the comfort of serving them alone."

"Go to hell, Black."

Sirius climbed the small spiral staircase to the bookcases above the desk and selected a book. He curled in a chair with his back to Snape and read in silence. Snape rose and stroked Fawkes. He walked to the window and looked out over the darkness on the surrounding hills, then back to Fawkes.

"Now who's pacing."

Snape sighed and climbed the little staircase to the second level. Sirius did not look up.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, Snape?"

"For which of your many offenses?"

He shut his book with a scowl. "For witnessing your vulnerability."

Snape froze. "How dare you."

"How dare I what? Remind you that you haven't always been as stiff as a broomstick in a waistcoat?"

"You dare reproach me."

"It's not a reproach! Christ Almighty, I've never known anyone who made it harder to be his friend in my entire life!" He opened his book and resumed reading with a distracted frown.

Snape watched the floor in silence. "Is that what you are?"

"What?"

"You said- oh, never mind."

Sirius watched him over his book. "Yes, I had hoped that we could become something like friends. After what we've seen and known of each other. Is that so utterly out of the question?"

Snape pursed his lips. "I. . .I don't think I have any idea how to do that. With anyone."

"No kidding." He shut his book and re-shelved it. "All right, low blow. Forget I said that." He stretched. "We appear to have some time on our hands. What shall we talk about?"

"Did Harry tell you why he got into the fight with Milholland?"

"No. You're saying he told you more than he told me?"

"I'm saying he knows how to get round you."

"So. Why did he attack Harry?"

"You've got it backward. Potter went for him."

"Did he now? What had he done?"

"Verbally provoked him by insulting a faculty member."

Sirius chuckled. "You've got to be joking."

"I assure you I am quite sincere."

"He didn't make the mistake of insulting Remus."

"No. It was me, actually."

"You?" Sirius did a double take. "Harry defended you?"

"Yes. I confess I am really quite moved, if disapproving in a general sense."

"Huh." Sirius stroked the stubble on his chin.

"You appear unsurprised. At my being insulted or at Potter's delicate sense of honour on my behalf?"

"Both, actually. Harry's very peculiar that way. I don't know how to account for it. James was like that, to a certain extent, but nothing like Harry." Sirius rose and went down the little staircase. "Where do you suppose Albus hides that sherry?"

"Black. You cannot be serious. You want to break into Albus's stash?"

"Well, if we're going to be stuck here like naughty schoolboys, might as well act like them. Besides, I had plans to get hugely pissed tonight, and I like to stick to my plans."

"You were seriously planning on getting drunk on a school night?"

"Yes, Mum, I was in fact."

"And teaching Potions the next day, your reflexes and motor skills impaired by hangover?"

"I don't get hangovers."

"You are going to meet your death in a potions classroom. One Neville Longbottom is all it would take." A terrible thought struck him. "I haven't seen him at all. Tell me that doesn't mean what I think it does."

"That's what it means." Sirius's head was buried in a cabinet.

"When?"

"Last months of the war, actually. Funny thing is, Frank and Lucille are all right now. That Memory Restorative Potion you were working on worked after all. They recovered their memories and their sanity, just in time to hear their son had died."

"Good God. They'll hardly thank me for that one." Snape ran his hand through his hair. "I don't understand how that potion could have worked. What I had was only a prototype. It was far too unstable to be of any use."

"Oh. Well. I tweaked it some, and got lucky I guess. I haven't your 'natural gift,' but I'm not hopeless either."

"That really irritated you when Albus said that, didn't it?"

"Little bit." Sirius uncorked a bottle of Ogden's and pulled out two glasses. "Paydirt. Bottoms up, Snape." He tossed back the firewhiskey at a gulp. Snape followed suit, almost choking on the rich burn of the stuff. 

"Been a while for you, hasn't it? Well, time to get back in the game. Time was you could drink a Quidditch team under the table, if memory serves. Here's mud in your eye." He tossed back his second glass.

"You know," said Snape, wiping his mouth, "I was telling young Potter about McQuarrie today."

"That old bastard. May he rot in hell."

"Et in saecula saeculorum. I almost told Harry today about the time we spearheaded the joint Gryffindor-Slytherin project to put a testicle-squeezing charm on his underwear."

"Great Scott. I'm glad you didn't. I have a hard enough time making sure he knows as little as possible about my school days." He refilled his glass. "I don't think I've ever laughed as hard as I did that day. Seeing the old boy clutch at his groin and keel over that way- damn," he laughed. "I'd pay good money to see that again. And you were the mastermind behind that one."

"May it redound to my glory."

"Hear hear." 

"I feel a sudden desire to sit down."

"You've certainly become a cheap drunk."

"My many suitors will be glad to hear it."

"So, speaking of your suitors-"

"Were we?"

"What exactly did Milholland say?"

"Fill me up. Oh, the usual. Death Eating scum, traitorous bastard, et cetera et cetera. Couple of new ones."

"Such as."

"Well, let's see if I've got this right. I sucked Dumbledore's mildewed cock to get my job back. And I'm a slimy git of a faggot- in itself nothing original- who is rogering your godson."

Sirius set his glass down, his face suddenly grave. "Harry didn't say any of this to me."

"No, well, he wouldn't."

"No wonder he went for the little prick."

Snape squinted at him over his glass. "You've been here what, two years now?"

"That's right."

"An unmarried man in a boarding school. You'll get used to it. The gossip. Lupin's bound to have encountered it before. Talk to him about it."

"You know, Snape, I think you may be labouring under a tiny bit of a delusion about my relationship with Remus."

"Oh?"

"We're not actually lovers, you know."

"I'm sure I never thought about it."

"Liar."

"I don't have sexual thoughts, Black."

Sirius refilled their glasses. "You used to."

"A long time ago."

"Is sex something you gave up as part of your penance all those years ago?"

Snape sipped in silence. "Yes."

"Yes? Bloody hell, I was joking. How long has it been since you had sex, Snape?"

"I'm not sure."

"Sure of what?"

"How you would define sex."

A small ugly suspicion plucked at Sirius's gut, and he quickly turned the conversation. "I would say defining sex is the great work and purpose of one's school days. At what point can one definitively say that sex has occurred? Jamie and I used to have arguments about this all the time. He claimed to have lost his virginity under the Quidditch stands during fifth year, but I maintained it was simply snogging gone awry."

"I would say. . . orgasm in the presence of another person."

"That's awfully conservative of you."

"All right. Mutual orgasm, mutual touching. Autoeroticism in the presence of another doesn't count."

"Hm. Glad to hear it."

"So why aren't you married, Black?"

"Who, me? Well, let's see, how would that posting in the Daily Prophet read? 'Handsome ex-con seeks single white female?' Women tend to be unwilling to overlook things like murder convictions."

"People can be so shallow."

"And also because Jamie got the girl, that's why."

"Not hard to see why she made her choice."

"You wound me. Don't you think I'm husband material? Responsible, upstanding, and all that?"

"Charming, witty, incapable of fidelity."

Sirius gave a rueful smile. "Not actually true. Lily had other issues with me."

"Did she love you?"

"Not so much, evidently."

Snape finished off his glass and reached for the bottle. "I'm sorry if I gave offense by my assumption about you and Lupin. It's just- well, there were rumours, in school."

"About me and Remus?"

"About you and Potter."

"Oh. Well, those weren't actually untrue."

"Ah. Miss Evans' other issue rears its ugly head."

"Indeed. Me, I've always maintained that anything that increases my chances of a date on Saturday night by 50 percent, can't be a bad thing."

"That's incredibly. . . .sluttish of you. Also disingenuous."

"How so?"

"Because everyone has a preference."

"Not me." He leaned over for the bottle. "I take it back. I do have a preference. For good conversation and uninhibited sex."

"Neither gender has a corner on those markets."

"You see my problem."

"I think your plan about hiding as much of your life as possible from your godson is a good one." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Truth or dare?"

"What are you, fourteen?"

"Arrested adolescence, remember? Let's live up to it."

"Does anyone ever actually pick 'dare'?"

"Oh, sure. I used to, all the time. The key is to play with people you trust to come up with reasonable dares that won't get you killed or expelled."

"Black."

"Yeah?"

"You know we're out of school, right? We can't actually be expelled."

"Sacked, then, in our case."

"Oh, I think that's pretty much a foregone conclusion, when Albus walks back into this office."

"You're avoiding the subject. Truth or dare?"

"All right. God help me. Truth."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"You have got to be joking."

"No, I'm really not. I don't believe it's black."

"It's not." He closed his eyes. "Deep purple. My mother had this velvet dress- I thought it made her look like a queen."

"Quite a woman, Cassandra."

"Shut up. My turn. Truth or dare."

Sirius gave a devilish grin. "Dare."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. What on earth can I dare you to do in this office we haven't already done? Strip naked and dance with Fawkes?"

"I don't know. That's your job. You can dare me to floss my teeth, if you want."

"Very well. You've made your choice. Go get a piece of parchment off Albus's desk. And a quill."

"What am I going to do?"

"You're going to take dictation."

"All right. Fire away."

"Write: 'Dear Albus.'"

"Got it. Dear Albus."

" 'I wanted to write this note to tender my heartfelt thanks,'" Snape recited slowly. " 'My heartfelt thanks for arranging tonight's detention. Over the course of the evening, I have come to see that Deputy Headmaster Snape is by far my superior in breeding, understanding, and learning.' Are you getting all this?"

"Hang on. Slow down a bit."

" 'I was a fool ever to have challenged his slightest decision or to have offered him offense in any way. I am ashamed to own I have been blinded by my envy of his natural good looks and talent. But no more. I must confess to you my folly. Today's altercation was entirely and completely my fault, provoked by my headstrong unwillingness to listen to Professor Snape's calm and wise remarks. Henceforward, I will be his devoted, single-minded supporter in all matters, as I have ever been yours. 

Sincerely,

Sirius Ebenezer Black'

Do you have all that?"

"You cannot be serious."

"This game was your idea, not mine. Are you backing down?"

"Not on your life."

"Good. Now I want you to leave that on his desk, right at the top of the pile. Excellent. You know, I think I like this game after all."

"Just you wait. Yours is coming."

"I am all aflutter. Do your worst."

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Were you raped in Azkaban?"

The silence that crashed down landed on his chest like a weight. Too late Sirius realised his mistake and cursed his whiskey-fogged brain. "You don't have to answer that."

There was no reply. He raised up on one arm to look at Snape on the floor across from him. He was staring rigidly at the ceiling, unblinking.

"Snape. I didn't mean to ask that. I was wondering about it earlier and it just came out now before I could think. I'm drunker than I thought I was. Please let's forget I asked it."

Snape still did not move. Sirius waited. Finally Snape sat up and walked over to the cabinet. He emerged with another bottle of whiskey. He uncorked it and swigged right from the bottle before he sat back down. He continued his study of the ceiling. 

"Yes."

Sirius shut his eyes, hating himself. "I didn't mean to be such a bastard, Snape."

"I know that." He drank from the bottle again. "Did it happen to you?"

"No. I was pretty much let alone by the Aurors, once I was captured."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah. They kept to the old standards with me- floggings, beatings, the like. When they thought about it, which wasn't that often."

"The beatings I could stand all right. It was what came after I couldn't bear."

"Jesus. Albus would burn down the Ministry, if he knew."

"He must never know. Please." Snape's voice was urgent.

"Of course not."

They passed the bottle back and forth in silence for a while. 

"It's your turn, Black."

"I don't think we should play any more."

"Oh, I think we should. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who's the person at Hogwarts right now, faculty, student, or otherwise, with whom you most wish to have wild, raucous, spine-tingling sex?"

"Next question."

"Oh, no you don't. You've dished it out, now you can take it. I want a truthful answer, on your honour as a teacher at this school. Do you swear to give it?"

"Christ. All right. I swear."

"Good. Now let's hear it, you randy little bastard. Personally, I'm hoping it's Hooch."

Sirius mumbled something indistinct. 

"What's that? You're going to have to speak up. Let's have it. Who is it?"

Sirius rolled over so his back was to Snape. "It's you."

The silence before was nothing to the thunderous pall that descended on the room this time. Sirius could hear his blood pounding in his chest. He pushed himself up and drained the bottle to the halfway mark.

"Congratulations, all right? We're even. Dirt for dirt. Shame for shame. Now can we please just get drunk quietly before I manage to humiliate myself even further." He collapsed on to his back and felt his stomach roil. It was possible he might be sick. He had just handed Severus Snape enough rope to hang him with. Why hadn't he thought to lie? Why was lying a skill reserved for the sober?

"You're having me on."

"I should think it's fairly obvious I'm not. Please, let's just change the subject."

Snape raised himself on his elbows and squinted at Black through his hair. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to sleep with me?"

"You know, what I said before. Good conversation, uninhibited sex."

"I'll grant you the former. But you have to know I'm hardly capable of the latter."

"I think you might surprise yourself."

"Besides, I have no real experience- consensually, that is- of that sort of thing."

"Snape, really. I was speaking in hypotheticals. It was not a proposition. I do realise you'd sooner chew your leg off."

"No. . .no, you're quite wrong there. I have to admit, a part of me has- wondered."

"Really."

"Really."

Sirius dragged himself on his elbows over to where Snape was lying. "I wouldn't have thought you would have any curiosity about- what did you call it?- 'that sort of thing.'"

"I don't, in general. Well, I have thought about it on occasion. Certain people."

"Who?"

"What, you want names?"

"I want them, and I want them now."

"Well. You, for one."

"Really."

"Really."

"Snape. Have you ever kissed a man?"

"Never."

"Want to try it?"

Snape reflected. "I might not care for it."

"You might not."

"What is it like?"

"Rougher. Stronger. Firmer."

"Those are not- bad descriptions, in and of themselves."

"You'll have to judge for yourself."

"Just a kiss, nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"All right then."

He sat up and Sirius edged closer, letting his hair trail over Snape's shoulder. He brushed his lips against Snape's jaw line. "Still want to?"

"Yes." Snape's voice sounded tight.

Sirius moved his lips to Snape's and let them rest there a moment. "Still?"

"You are beginning to irritate me."

He pushed against Snape's lips and twined his hand in his hair. He felt Snape's lips part for him, felt the jolt in his groin when tongue brushed tongue. He struggled to control his breathing, and too late realised he was crushing the other man to him, plundering his mouth. He tried to ease up, but Snape was right there pulling him tighter, pushing into his mouth now with startling ferocity. He tasted whiskey and cloves. With difficulty he pushed him away.

"Snape. I promised just a kiss. I need to stop now if I'm to keep that promise."

"Fuck your promise."

The sound of that word on Snape's lips sent a sharp frisson through him. "Snape. I'm not kidding. I'm drunk and hard and I could come right now. Stop or else."

"Else."

"Oh, hell." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For long moments afterward they lay in a daze, limbs atangle.

"Sirius."

"Mm."

"If Albus walks through that door and finds us on the floor of his office drunk, naked, and covered in questionable bodily fluids, what do you think the chances of our getting sacked would be?"

"I would say, fair to excellent. We've got to get cleaned up."

With the urgency of self-preservation, they hastily pulled their clothes on and put the office back in a reasonable semblance of order. After a quick and fierce debate over what to do with the empty whiskey bottles, they decided to carry the evidence with them, concealed under robes.

"Now. If we could just do something about the smell of sex." Sirius stood with his hands on his hips, frowning.

"Yes, that is a problem. What about a Fumigus charm?"

"No good. He's sure to recognise it."

"Of course he will. But at least he won't know what's under it."

"I wouldn't bet on that."

They cast the charm and straightened their clothes. Sirius studied Fawkes for a moment. "What do you think the chances are that overgrown chicken can talk?"

"Forget the bird. He's the least of our worries. What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight."

"Well, clearly Albus is not going to show up. He can hardly fault us at this point for leaving. He's made his point, after all. And let's not forget, we have your nice note on his desk."

"I'm going to burn that thing."

"Oh, no you don't. I'll blackmail you if you do."

"Small problem there. You're pretty heavily implicated in this scenario."

"Damn."

"Come here." Sirius pulled him close. "That was definitely some of the best kissing I've ever had. Any chance we might get to do some of that again?"

"Hard to say. Who knows what burst of rationality sobriety may bring?"

"The we'd better take advantage of the time we have till then." Their kisses were slower and more deliberate this time. "Severus. I can do better than a quick roll on the floor," he said, resting his forehead against the other man's.

"I'll wager you can. But it may take me. . . some time." 

"That I can give you. Come on, let's get out of here," Sirius murmured. With a final twitch to the curtains and cursory inspection of the room, they were gone.

Fawkes cocked his head and watched them go, then flew across the room to the empty chair in the corner. He landed on the back of the chair and began to trill softly. The man in the chair lifted back the rich folds of his invisibility cloak's hood, and the phoenix perched on his shoulder. 

"What do you think, Fawkes? Interesting, yes? Far more than I was expecting, I'll grant you that. And it will more than do to be going on with," he said with a small chuckle. "Well, well, well. Quite a night we've had, quite a night indeed." The old wizard slowly stroked the bird as he wandered off to his bedchamber, lost in thought.

  



End file.
